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Two thirty in the morning again. There is never enough sleep and when there seems like I manage some, I still feel as the walking dead. Peoples voices hum crudely and mumble about. The mania has created a madness and monster. The demons hark on my shoulders and hiss within my ears. Every breath bleeds and patience is nonexistent. I try not to wake her as I adjust my legs over the side of the bed. She tends not to sleep well either and I sometimes wonder if it is only when I am trying to survive within these moments. She floats with me and provides shelter from a fog filled with anger during these struggles.

She wakes. Now guilt plagues me. Every emotion is felt in this except the one most important. Those that I feel when I make love to her. We haven’t done so in a few weeks. She can feel my restlessness even distances away and in this early morning, near, she reaches for me. I feel her fingertips graze the arch of my back. She attempts to calm the hideous I feel. She knows me like no other, feels me like none before and can touch me in the most roseate of fire from a simple glance.

I don’t resist her this time. I beg for her touch, my back shudders into her palm. Even in my own selfish madness I know she longs for me above her, aches for me inside of her. I will take her into me this time. Into the heart that trembles in sorrow and hands that shake from insecurity. I want to be vulnerable within her. I turn to her. I need her now as she needs me. I reach for her body holding the small of her back as I rest her beneath my naked skin. I can feel her breasts harden against me and her hips pull me further between her legs. I want the most passionate of myself inside her. I want her to feel the maddening that creates a dance with our bodies as one. No invitation is needed as she grabs for my neck and buries the wetness of her mouth against my pulse.

My fingers taunt her pinked flesh as she cries within my grasp. There is no ownership but a release of souls. No bed only air and sky rest above and below us. There is no creation like the one we have built within marriage and a bond we have rendered upon each other. This morning my madness speaks in another voice, moves away from anger, and remembers her once again.

About PJ Secluded

Introspective writer working on first manuscript. Writer of original series, poems, musings of sorts and the occasional manic prose.
My main blog is an original series seen through the eyes of the lesbian protagonist Burgess. With her brood of studs, they conquer fear and tragedy, embracing love and the experiences between close friends.
I have been writing for just a little while now and found a true passion for it. I want to help others through my writing discussing sensitive issues that affect the LGBTQ community in a unique fashion